Reading Between the Lines
by Icon
Summary: Some unseen scenes as we see faculty mourn the death of a student.
1. Default Chapter

Reading Between the Lines  
  
A New Mutants Fanfic by Brian Doyle  
  
All characters are the property of Marvel Comics. This work is completely unauthorised.   
No permission has been granted, no offence has been intended.  
  
  
"Without knowing the force of words, it is impossible to know men."  
- Confucius  
  
Part 1 - The Unspoken Words  
  
It's almost ironic under these circumstances that I admit to never having felt at ease committing my feelings to paper. I value words and their power, and my overflowing library is a testament to my love of literature, but those are other peoples words, not my own.  
  
Even when I had a book published, it was described by one critic as being; "an almost indigestible combination of abstract science and supermarket tabloid". Sadly, it's apparent failure to permeate the public consciousness seems to support that opinion.  
  
And yet... somehow, writing this down seems appropriate.  
  
When I left my students behind, through little choice of my own, I left them in the care of a man I trusted completely.  
  
While I was... well, a distance so far away that numbers cease to have any meaning, I allowed myself the occasional fantasy that I could still sense my students thoughts, that whilst I was unable to contact them, I was at least aware of them. Foolish I know, my telepathic powers could not hope to operate on such a cosmic scale, but it made me feel more comfortable and seemed a harmless conceit.  
  
The folly of this was driven home to me when I briefly met with one of my students in the far reaches of space. I was stunned to see Illyana, because in my fantasy I was utterly sure that the New Mutants were all back on Earth. Meeting with the other New Mutants shortly thereafter was a most welcome experience, and allowed me to apprise myself of their development and growth, which was all I could hope it would be, and more besides.  
  
When I did finally return to Earth I almost reflexively did a psi-scan for my students; X-Men and New Mutant alike. A mere brush of mind to mind contact, to reassure myself of their presence. I was confident that they would still be there, confident that I'd have felt if anything untoward had happened to any of them. None of the X-Men who had come to fight by my side had kept me had told me the full situation back on Earth, we had been rather occupied fighting for our lives, but that is another story.  
  
So when I sought out the minds of my New Mutants, I was pleased that not only were they there, but they had nearly all changed for the better, most had grown and matured, many had developed new passions and beliefs. It was only a surface scan, but I know my students.  
  
Some changes delighted me, others worried me, but this is a risk one runs when one encouraging personal growth. Even the ones I found disturbing were at least heartfelt.  
  
To a non-psi I cannot adequately explain the loss I felt when I found an empty space where I should have found a mind. I let my scan range wider and wider, hoping that he was simply displaced, but deep down I knew better. There was not just an absence of his own thoughts, but an absence of him in the thoughts of others, an echo of mourning.  
  
I found a blank spot where Douglas Ramsey's mind had been, a hollow in the minds of his family, his teammates, his friends.   
  
Perhaps I should explain, when I use my power to scan other minds, I do not sense merely individuals, I also sense them as they are seen by each other.   
  
Where some people might see a room full of people, I sense an almost infinite web of thoughts and associations. When I scan my X-Men, I see not only Ororo's surface thoughts, but the emotions that Kurt felt the first time he ever saw her, I look at Kurt and sense a memory of the smell of damp fur that Logan has from a mission three years ago, which in turn links to Ororo summoning a tempest months ago, which recalls the scent of ozone when lightning struck Piotrs metal skin, and so on and so on. I see not only individuals, but their relationships and history with each other. It is quite, quite beautiful and almost impossible to convey to a non-psi.  
  
I once discussed this concept with the New Mutants and, coincidentally enough, it was Douglas who coined the term "psychic fractal"; each thought I perceive links to another one tangential to the original which in turn leads to another even deeper thought, with no identifiable end to the pattern. I liked the term, and have used it since.  
  
I wish I could say that his absence came as a total surprise, but that would be a lie. I can think of no student who was as seemingly unsuited to the life at the Xavier School as Douglas, yet there are few who embraced my principles quite so thoroughly.  
  
He was the New Mutant I was most concerned about inducting; I worried about Roberto's over-confidence and Rahne's almost complete lack of same, but they at least had some means of protecting themselves. Douglas' mutant power was one of the most passive I have ever encountered, and yet one with almost unlimited potential.  
  
In most cases I feel I comprehend my student's powers, Wolfsbane's shapeshifting is a relatively straightforward, if exotic, physical process. I can understand how Mirage's form of specific telepathy reaches into a targets mind to summon up an emotive image but Cypher's power continued to baffle me. It wasn't telepathy, and it wasn't psychometry, in some way it combined and transcended both in a remarkably specific way, dealing only with language and communication as best I could ever find out.   
  
Telepathically learning a language from a native speaker is one thing, I can do that myself, and have many times, but to infer the written language of even a long dead alien culture would be beyond my skills, yet Douglas managed it in less than a day. To him there was no such thing as a "dead language".  
  
The only mutant I know of with an even remotely similar power is Forge, and his ability to sense the potential within technology, but I confess I have never truly understood how his power operates either, classifying it vaguely as some form of precognition.  
  
To lose such a gifted communicator now, when the world needs communicators more than ever...  
  
In a few minutes, I am going to pick up this pen again and write something that I hope will be comforting, but will probably be hopelessly trite, to Philip and Sheila, offering my condolences on the loss of their son and apologising for not contacting to them before now, explaining that my "sabbatical" was so complete that no one knew how to contact me.  
  
I will visit them later, but first I must ascertain whether they ever wish to see me again. I suppose I could use my telepathy to find out, but that would not be the proper thing to do under these circumstances.  
  
God in Heaven, I've known the two of them for years and I have to play catch-up on such a tragedy, surely the worst that can befall a family. Philip did much of the legal work to help me establish this School when he was a newlywed just moved to Westchester and in need of the business. I remember his happiness as he talked about his wife and the birth of his son.   
  
I sometimes met Sheila socially, though not often, and I never actually met Douglas until after he and Kitty became friends, though I heard a lot about him from Philip over the years. That's what made me first suspect he might actually be a mutant.  
  
As happens so often to innocents in my life, Douglas became involved in our lives here, indirectly at first, but later directly.  
  
I made it clear to Emma Frost that I would brook no interference with Douglas' life after her attempt to induct him into her Academy. I am surprised it had any affect, but she accepted his decline of her offer with relative good grace, and did not pressurise him in any way I could ever detect. But then, her manipulations were always most subtle when dealing with the New Mutants.  
  
I had earmarked Douglas as a possible future member of my Mutant Underground, but as it turns out, my students had other ideas. I had mentioned my suspicions about his mutancy to them. In retrospect, I realise this was an unpardonable breach of privacy, Douglas' status as a mutant was no-one else's concern but his. I should not be in the position of "outing" mutants without their permission.  
  
Still, in the cause of the greater good, the New Mutants had need of a linguist at short notice, and with no telepath's available, they took it upon themselves to involve Douglas.   
  
As Warlock, and possibly many others, would have died otherwise, I can't blame them, but I can blame myself for allowing it to go further. I could have stopped his association with the other students at this stage, perhaps even a subtle mindwipe, loath though I am to use them.   
  
I should know my students better, Sam and Danielle came to see me privately after their "field trip" to Lila Cheney's Dyson Sphere. They pleaded his case most eloquently, I'd rarely heard Sam so definite about anything before. They pointed out his willingness to risk himself for his friends, and the fact that it was only thanks to him that a worldwide catastrophe had been averted. They also asked me a question I had barely considered, or unconsciously ignored, myself.  
  
"Professor, if a Sentinel was in a room full of humans, and Doug was in amongst them, would it ignore him?"  
  
When I replied that a Sentinel would detect the presence of any mutant, I realised that they had me.  
  
And then came the obvious final blow... "Well then, living as close to school as he does, doesn't he deserve the chance to be aware of that? For his own sake as much as anything else?"  
  
At that I had to concur. They promised to keep a close eye on him in dangerous situations. (A promise I know now haunts them and their fellow students, as indeed it does both Magneto and myself)  
  
Of course subsequent events proved them right in their assessment of Douglas' attributes. To say nothing of his first encounter with the Danger Room, an incident which still brings a smile even now.  
  
I have often wondered if any of my students would ever turn to me after graduation and say "Thank you for teaching me to use my power, now I want to go out into the real world to lead a normal life." A part of me would rejoice, as such mutants will be as important to the future in their way as the X-Men are in theirs, but so far none have done so, despite some valiant attempts.  
  
I used to wonder whether Douglas would be the first but, from my own experiences as well as the reports Magneto left, I doubt that he would have. It wasn't just the prospect of adventure that appealed to him, though I can see how that would influence any adolescent. It was a deep-rooted need to see the right thing done, to protect the innocent. A fine cause, and despite everything he endured in his time at my School, an aim he believed in to his very last action.  
  
He could have stayed in the background of the team, his computer skills would have made him an invaluable asset as support, communications, tactics and research - skills frequently lacking in my teams I admit. No-one would have thought any less of him for it, but he wanted to be out in the field, helping his friends and making a difference.  
  
I know that he forged a particularly close friendship with Warlock, and for that I am glad, they made an ideal pairing; great power working in harmony with great responsibility, each complementing the other. An alien who knew no earth language in conjunction with a human mutant who knew them all, as fitting an example of harmony as my school has ever produced.  
  
And to what long term use have I put his gifts? The security for the Xavier Protocols is based on a term paper I set him during his second semester. It's a foolproof genetically-based multiple decryption series, a most elegant program. It should be a fitting tribute to his gifts, and now I'm using it to store up data on how to kill every mutant I've ever met, including my own students. The irony of that situation isn't lost on me, I assure you.  
  
There are things I should have said, things a teacher is supposed to say. I should have said how proud I was of him more often, I should have said how much I admired his courage.   
  
However, I hope, no I _know_, that if anyone could hear the unspoken words it would be him.  
  
And now the hardest part of this evening's task....  
  
"My dear Philip and Sheila......" 


	2. The Unanswered Question

Reading Between the Lines  
  
A New Mutants Fanfic by Brian Doyle  
  
All characters are the property of Marvel Comics. This work is completely unauthorised.   
No permission has been granted, no offence has been intended.  
  
  
Part 2 - The Unanswered Question  
  
The cemetery was empty now, the last car had pulled away, the last small group of people had long since started home.   
  
A long black limousine drew up outside the gates and from it a group emerged, led by a striking blonde woman wearing a formal white suit that somehow seemed to be more severe than the black worn by her younger companions.  
  
They were an unusual looking group. Probably the most unusual was the tall girl with a cloud of lilac hair barely contained by a veiled hat was turning her head this way and that on a neck that seemed to be too flexible to be quite normal. She was sniffing the air keenly, "Catseye smell deadthings Miss Frost... smell sadness too... ..Furface has been here... much, much sadness in her, and Sam Rocketboy here too and Machinechangeything... Others I know too. Why we here after they gone?"  
  
"After discussion with the White King I felt it would be... inappropriate to intrude upon the main ceremony."  
  
"Compassion for others Emma, that's most unlike you.. And Magneto for that matter."  
  
The glare that the woman directed towards the speaker would have given pause to a rabid dog, and the tone was totally flat "That's _Miss Frost_ to you, Manuel. Incidentally, if I feel so much as the lightest touch of compulsive empathy whilst we are here, you _will_ regret it."  
  
"Of course... Miss Frost." There wasn't an ounce of respect in the voice.  
  
"A private tribute seemed best. We are here to pay our respects to a former Hellion. It is fitting we should be here for one of our own, no matter how briefly they were one of us."  
  
The group arrived beside a grave, newly filled in. The plain gravestone simply listed a name, two dates and the words "Beloved son".  
  
Certain they were unobserved Emma let her illusion drop, the others gasped slightly at the sight of the White Queen in white leather bodice and matching fur-trimmed cape.  
  
"Why the shock? He was a Hellion as a well as a former student, that deserves the White Queen's attendance, not just Emma Frost."  
  
"This one was never a true Hellion though, Miss Frost. Not in the heart"  
  
"True Haroun, true, but he was _my_ student, and wore the uniform of the Hellions. That alone makes him more worthy than most."  
  
"Douglas Ramsey as most of you first knew him, was a Hellion for a brief time, but he was a comrade, and that deserves some commemoration."   
  
"Blond-top tonguespeaker dead? For good?"  
  
Emma sighed, some things to so long to explain to some people. "Yes Sharon, he has died, and they have buried him here. We shall not be here for long, so perhaps a moments silence is most appropriate."  
  
Dutifully her students adopted downcast gazes.  
  
Curiously Emma let her mind reach out to touch the thoughts of her students. It was always interesting, and useful, to gauge their reactions to the death of a peer, someone they had known, if not necessarily liked. As with most teenagers, their thoughts were a confused collection of ideas and images, that only a trained telepath would be able to filter through and comprehend.  
  
"thought he was a dweeb... kinda cute though, if you like the dweeb look... which i don't of course... well almost never... look on his face when he won at the poker table... suckers death though... I'll never let it happen to me I promise you... party in the private room later hope i remembered to tape melrose.."  
  
Typical Roulette, as self-centred as a spinning top, but with a callous streak of self-preservation that was well worth exploiting. Emma made a mental note to ensure that the losses of the Stavros gambling consortium were exacerbated in the Club's favour again. She moved her psychic scan on  
  
".. c'est La Mort.. this is no surprise.. mais il ne signife pas toujours le vrai mort, seulment un change tres profound... transmutation from one form to another... je me demande.. significant? Et maintenant?"  
  
With an impatient sigh, the White Queen realised that Tarot had reached into her purse and pulled out one of her infernal cards from the deck she always carried.  
  
"..the card i drew last time we met the lovers ..nothing came of it then.. now this has happened.. did it ever refer to him..."  
  
Emma passed on with a mental shudder, Marie-Ange's obsession with her cards made her almost utterly unpredictable, a wild card in every sense, but her powers and potential made her worth the effort, so far at any rate.  
  
".. death is not to be feared I know there is worse to face in life.. scent/physical memory; burning skin, scorched hair, friction-searing body in midair, ground impact, cracking of bones, feel of surgical steel, antiseptic ..fear makes life unliveable.. better to die for what you believe in than live a lie.. honour and sacrifice are never wasted, never pale skinned blond boy learning arabic dialect in minutes, then speaking together for long hours into the night.. how different childhoods had been.. traces of envy of the other clear in each... close family ties versus adventure and flight... a quiet voice stilled in the desert.."  
  
How typical, Emma mused, sighing inwardly, under his tough exterior Haroun lived by his naive notions of honour and duty, almost a romantic. Still, that was what made him reliable to Emm... to the Hellfire Club.  
  
".. xavier claims another life in pursuit of his dream... to dream the impossible dream... ramsey/john died warrior deaths... is that worth the price.. too late to ask them that... standing in front of pyre, sun burning on bare chest, smoke and soul rising could they have done any differently than they did being the people they were? ...impossible for john, unlikely for ramsey..."  
  
This time her mental sigh was more of annoyance, this noble streak of Thunderbirds was getting to be an obstacle, a shame that Xavier had managed to vent off so much potent anger with so little for Emma to show for it in return.  
  
"..a fool.. ..a truly pointless power... a truly pointless person... almost a flatscan.. didn't hit me/hurt me/could have..a yellow gloved fist raised, looming large in his field of vision.. then lowered, face turning away in pity/disgust/self-loathing weakness or better than me?... stronger? a fool better than a de la rocha..? no.. never.. just weak... just a fool.."  
  
Ah, ever-reliable Manuel, it was always interesting to see a sociopath in the making, their thoughts were so refreshingly clear of remorse. A future Inner Circle member for certain, if she didn't have to kill him first.  
  
The human element of me is not comfortable here, not on a physical level but on an emotional one. Sight of gravestone A tangible commemoration of an abstract concept such as death seems to be a human norm in mourning processes... An intriguing correlation, replacing absence of the animate, with a presence of the inanimate... A metaphysical construct to ponder later, after romp tonight perhaps, a moonlight contemplation is always refreshing. Must ensure to ask abstract image; fur friendship shyness about her feelings on the matter too. An alternate emotional standpoint would be worth factoring in for future reference  
  
And this was just the part Emma could comprehend, she shied reflexively away from the deeper parts of Catseye's mind. Emma was always surprised at the richness and complexity of Sharon's thoughts. Her stilted mode of speech was as much because of the inability of the human language to express her thoughts as anything else. Her internal clarity and depth of thought was startling, as was her ability to balance animal and human ways of looking at the world. She wondered idly how Sharon and Cypher would have got on, if he had had a chance to apply his powers to communicating with her. "Intriguing" indeed.  
  
Time to bring matters to a head. Lifting her head up, she turned to face her students;  
  
"Let this be a lesson to you Hellions, Douglas Ramsey was prepared to give his life to save a team-mate. Whatever else we may think of Xavier's students, that was a noble action, and worthy of respect.."  
  
She paused to let that sink in for a moment, she rarely gave praise, so it would grab their attention.  
  
"..in its way. However, it is an example I hope none of you would be so foolish as to follow!"  
  
That elicited shocked expressions from Haroun and James, the slightest of smug nods from Manuel, boredom from Jenny and both Sharon and Marie-Ange were typically unreadable.  
  
"Hellions, we are engaged in a war, a battle between humans and mutants for control of the future. In a war the weak do not survive, but nor does the hero. In a war there is indeed a place for heroism, but there is also a place for pragmatism. In the long term it is better to be a survivor that others might see as a coward, than be a hero who dies too soon to be of use. The opinions of others can always be ignored."  
  
"'He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day'. Is that it Miss Frost? What about the opinions of yourself, the one person you can never escape." Even without telepathy Emma could sense that James' self-control was slipping, his fists were clenching tight enough to deform steel.  
  
"Then, James, you will at least be alive to feel miserable and wallow in self-doubt. That's an option neither your brother nor Cypher will ever have now." Better not to push THAT hot-button too hard right now, but it might stave off a more vocal response, mentioning his brother usually made him quietly contemplative. There was no such luck on this occasion though.  
  
"You might ask yourself whether they would feel that way, Emma? You never met my brother, but you did meet Cypher. Do you think he could have lived with himself if he had not acted as he did? If he had let Wolfsbane die?"  
  
Damn, she hated it when they used insight, logic could be argued around, insight was too emotional to shift.  
  
"We'll never know now, James.... Mores the pity." Not her best comeback but it would do for the moment.  
  
"Miss Frost, we came here to pay our respects. If you have no respect to show then I don't see why you came."  
  
Emma was tempted to lash out with a psi-bolt, but her admonition to Manuel came back to her. If she resorted to a psychic attack over this, then they would doubt her sincerity in other things.  
  
"We wouldn't be here if I felt no respect James. Of course I feel regret, Douglas could have been a valuable player in the human/mutant conflict, his skill with languages and computers could have been used to great effect, but he should never have been a field operative. Now his skills will benefit no one."  
  
"They benefited the life he chose to save, Miss Frost."  
  
"He should never have given him that opportunity. Some are born to fight, some are born to carry other burdens."  
  
"I recall Sam explaining how much the same situation arose when Magneto took over the School, but he was convinced to change his assessment. Do you argue with the White King?"  
  
Emma barked a short laugh, "I argue with my own reflection if I choose to James. Come, our work here is done. I would like a moment alone here."  
  
As the others trooped back to the car, Emma stood alone by the grave. Almost reluctantly she sent her thoughts down into the earth, straining to see if there was the slightest chance of a brainwave activity. Cypher had merged with the alien Warlock on several occasions, who knew what might have resulted. Her thoughts came back unanswered.  
  
Sighing, she turned and made her way back to the limousine, recomposing her illusion of normalcy around her again.  
  
She tried to lose herself in her own thoughts, there were new students to interview, possible candidates for the Hellions amongst them. The blond boy from Monaco, some sort of energy projector by the sound of it, a girl from India with some sort of camouflage power, and another boy from somewhere far out in the part of the world she thought of simply as "Redneck USA" who could bench-press his father's pickup truck. New eager minds to shape, new skills to instil, new loyalties to foster.   
  
And still James words came back to her "Do you think he could have lived with himself if he had not acted as he did?" and she wondered again. If the position were ever to confront her Hellions, to save themselves or save her... which would be the decision she would want them to take. She wasn't sure she liked the answers that presented themselves.... She wasn't sure there were answers that she _would_ like to such a question....  
  
She reached the main gate as dusk passed into true night, and as the limousine drove off the cemetery was left to the ghosts.  
  
  
  
  
  
5 


End file.
